Restoration (A Walking Dead Fan-Fic)

Chapter 8

A/N: So sorry for the late update everyone. Life has been pretty crazy and leaves very little time to write. When free time comes up, this story is all I ever work on. I’ve actually re-written this chapter several, several times.

I was blown away from the feedback from chapter 7. I appreciate all of you. Thank you all for giving me the motivation to write this story. You all don’t know how great that makes me feel. Please, please keep the feedback coming. I will do my best to push these chapters out as fast as possible.

 Restoration: Chapter 8

 He was a sick bastard. A pathetic and lonely sick bastard. He was angry at himself for losing his grip on the emotions he had fought so hard to lock away, but at the same time, he was a little mystified that Alexis hadn't stopped him, had almost welcomed him.

With a groan he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to keep his thoughts free of the blonde hair woman, but failing. He proceeded to lay there, minutes stretching to hours, until sleep finally claimed him. Even then he could not escape, because his dreams were haunted by her blue eyes.

 ~THE WALKING DEAD~

 Alexis jolted awake. Air rushed in and out of her lungs, feeding the lightheadedness. Her skin crawled, tingling with sweat. Her breathing was ragged and uneven. She stumbled into the corner of the room, holding herself up by the sink. The person she saw in the mirror was someone she knew, someone she hadn’t seen in a while. Her eyes were tired and dark, her skin flushed from the nightmare.

 She grabbed a bottle of water and splashed some water on her face, the chill simultaneously cooling her and bringing her back to the present. Slowly, the events of the night came back to her. Pain crept through her.  God, the pain was so intense, coursing through her veins with every heartbeat of her heart. Her stomach writhed at the memory of the physical and emotional torment that man had put her through.

 Dominic Vasquez.

 Could he be one of the men in Victor’s coterie? If so, he was doing a fine job concealing his inner demon. Maybe he was working now to recast himself from the role of savage stalker into that of a normal. Some sociopaths could put on a false persona that was more convincing than the best performances of the finest actors who had ever lived, and this man was probably be one of those.

 She’d come full circle...somewhat. After all Rick’s assurances that she was safe, that she couldn’t be hurt by them anymore, she was right back where she’d started. She’d be looking over her shoulder, waiting for them around every corner.

 She needed to get back in control. And she needed a game plan. But who could she tell? Beyond that, what would she say? The man who raped and tortured her repeatedly was in the fucking prison.

 She’d been wrestling with the prospect of going to Rick or anyone for that matter. But what evidence did she have implicating him of such crimes? The sound of a fucking zippo lighter and a pet name?

 Hell, how was she going to get through this? She could barely look at the man without having a full-blown nervous breakdown. Now she needed to live under the same roof, with him! She splashed more water on her face and toweled off before returning to the bed. She fell heavily onto the bed, curling up with the blanket that was unnecessary on the warm night.